Till There Was You
by klemonademouth
Summary: In the beginning, it was all about the what, and not the who. He wanted someone, anyone, to hold hands with. It was even like that with Blaine, at first. That all changed around Valentine's day. Post-2.16. I should've written this a while ago . Klaine.


When it had been Finn, part of the allure was the fact that he'd finally be able to be a normal teenager. He'd be able to go to Prom with someone, hold hands with someone, kiss someone—it wasn't so much about the who, it was more about the _what_.

When it had been Sam, it was even more about the what. For a brief moment, Kurt could see himself with a pretty football player on his arm. He could see himself wearing Sam's letterman jacket and going on dates to Breadstix.

Not the who, the _what_.

Even in the beginning with Blaine, it was about the _what_. He wanted to _sing a duet_ with Blaine, wanted to _hold hands_ with Blaine, wanted to _kiss_ Blaine—the appeal of finally having _someone_ was all Kurt could focus on.

Sometime after Valentine's day, that changed.

It was no longer the appeal of _kissing _Blaine, but of kissing _Blaine_. He no longer wanted those teenage experiences—he wanted _Blaine_. He wanted _Blaine's_ laugh and _Blaine's_ smile and _Blaine's_ lips. He wanted everything that came with Blaine, and that included his obliviousness, his occasionally condescending attitude, his inability to process the fact that some people _might not like him_. His tendency to jump on furniture.

Blaine smiled at him from across the table at the Lima Bean, and Kurt's heart skipped a beat—not because there was a boy smiling at him like that, but because there was _Blaine_ smiling at him like that (and he was so unbearably handsome).

"I don't really know where to go from here," Blaine admitted, and his voice cracked. Kurt's heart swelled because Blaine had never sounded less composed, and that was because of _Kurt_.

It all still felt a little surreal.

An hour ago, he and Blaine had been kissing (for the first time) in the Dalton common room, over a dead bird's casket. Blaine had tugged him into the car and driven them both to the Lima Bean, and Kurt had spent his time in the passenger's seat admiring the way Blaine blushed all the way down to his collar (even his _ears_ were red, which was painfully adorable).

Blaine had insisted on paying, and he'd blushed an adorable shade of pink when their fingers brushed as he handed Kurt his coffee.

He'd made _Blaine_ blush.

Now they were sitting across from each other, in silence, and Kurt was certain that he had the world's goofiest grin spread across his face.

This—Blaine's speech, the kiss—explained everything about the past few days.

Four days ago, Kurt had sung Blackbird to the Warblers.

After he'd finished, he'd sat down beside Blaine, and Blaine had stayed strangely silent for the rest of the practice. Kurt had glanced at him warily once or twice—had he gone too far with his jabs?—but Blaine's face had remained in the same strangely open, strangely vulnerable expression. Kurt hadn't been able to place the look on his face.

He'd jumped when Kurt touched his arm after practice and asked if Blaine wanted to go to the Lima Bean, as was their usual tradition. His voice had been shaky when he'd answered in the affirmative.

This, Kurt realized now, was because Blaine had just had an epiphany. About _Kurt_.

His grin grew even sillier.

They'd spent longer in the Lima Bean than usual that afternoon. For the first time since Valentine's day, Blaine had paid for both of their coffees. For once, Kurt hadn't read anything into it.

Kurt had worried the entire time that there was something on his face (or worse, that he'd been too obvious again with his affections and Blaine was uncomfortable) because Blaine kept _looking_ at him (_Blaine_ kept looking at him). Quick little looks, and in between his eyes would drop to his coffee and a blush would spread high across his cheekbones. It was, honest-to-god, the _cutest_ thing Kurt had ever seen. He'd clear his throat every once in a while like he wanted to say something, but then he'd catch Kurt's eye and shake his head, closing his mouth.

It was odd, yes, but _Blaine_ was odd. Kurt was used to that.

He'd done most of the talking. Blaine had listened intently, his eyes doing that strange flickering thing, and nodded or made noises of agreement whenever the story called for it.

Blaine was normally the one to keep track of when they had to leave so they could both make it home in time for homework and dinner, but he hadn't. They'd stayed an extra hour and a half at their table until Kurt had finally said (reluctantly) that both of them _really_ needed to go home.

Blaine walked him to his car, which was something he'd _never_ done before. Normally, he waved cheerfully at Kurt as he climbed into his own car, calling that he'd see him the next morning.

"Are you okay?" Kurt asked him, reaching out to press his palm to Blaine's forehead. "You're acting stranger than normal."

Blaine jumped at his touch, staring wide-eyed at him, then turned away and walked to his car as quickly as was possible.

Kurt had shrugged it off, ignoring the slight sting behind his eyes, and gone home for dinner.

Two days ago, Blaine had knocked him off his feet.

No, that wasn't the right phrase, because he had surprised Kurt, but not _shocked_ him.

Blaine had said he wanted to do the duet with Kurt.

_Blaine_ wanted to duet with Kurt.

This time, Kurt hadn't let hope rise up in his chest. He'd taken it for what it was—a duet, because he was talented (both he and Blaine knew it) and because _his_ and Blaine's voices meshed even better than _Rachel_ and Blaine's had.

That was all it was. An appreciation of Kurt's talent.

Afterwards, Kurt had hugged Blaine tightly out of appreciation. When they pulled away, Blaine was oddly flushed, and he'd avoided looking in Kurt's eyes.

Kurt had shrugged that off, too.

Today, he'd been decorating Pavarotti's casket when Blaine had walked into the room and told him that he had the perfect song for their number. Kurt had asked him—expecting nothing, wanting _everything—_why Blaine had chosen _him_ as his duet partner.

(_Blaine_ had chosen _him_!)

Blaine had opened his mouth, and turned Kurt upside down.

Then he'd leaned forward, and knocked the breath out of Kurt.

And that brought them back to the present, where it was _Blaine_ sitting across from Kurt in the Lima Bean, clutching his hand like a lifeline—not just _a_ boy, but _the_ boy.

"Kurt?" Blaine said, hesitantly.

Kurt squeezed his hand. "Where do you _want_ to go from here, Blaine?"

Blaine took a deep breath. "I'd totally understand if I've taken too long and you changed your mind, but Kurt—I want to date you. Exclusively."

Kurt had to bite at the inside of his cheeks to reign in his crazy grin. "Blaine Warbler, are you saying you want to be my boyfriend?"

Blaine's eyes searched his hopefully. "Yes. I really, really like you, Kurt."

Kurt's heart was pounding, his head spinning in the there-is-_no-way_-this-is-real sort of way. When he looked back up, Blaine's gaze was so warm and soft that his breath actually caught.

Blaine's eyes made him honest. "I'd really like that," he murmured, and Blaine's fingers tightened around his.

"Good," he breathed, and Kurt's breath hitched because he _recognized_ that look on Blaine's face. He'd seen it before, just as Blaine leaned in to kiss him, then and every time afterwards.

"You're amazing," he blurted, and promptly flushed bright red. He felt a little like hiding his face.

Blaine's smile grew, and his eyes became even more—well, if Kurt hadn't known any better, he would've called the look _lovestruck_. "So are you," he replied tenderly. "I'm just sorry I couldn't see that sooner."

Kurt ducked his head, experiencing how-is-this-my-life moment.

"Kurt?" Blaine asked, and his voice was almost... shy. "I really want to kiss you again."

Kurt's stomach jolted. "What?" he squeaked, then cleared his throat. "Like, now?"

"Yes. Is that okay?"

"_Yes_," Kurt said, quickly. "Just not here, maybe?"

"Do you want to leave, then?" Blaine said, his voice hopeful and his expression reminiscent of an eager puppy.

"Please," Kurt said, and Blaine had their cups in the trash in the blink of an eye. He was standing in front of Kurt, offering his hand, as Kurt blinked again.

Kurt's heart thumped unsteadily. He glanced around, but nobody was looking.

It was no longer that Blaine was _offering his hand _to Kurt. It was that _Blaine_ was offering his hand to Kurt.

He took it.


End file.
